


Denial Ain't Healthy

by orphan_account



Series: Denial Ain't Healthy 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dean in Denial, Drama, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Castiel, POV Third Person Limited, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'And if, as they walked through the bookshelves, alone, Dean felt his heart thump loudly every time Cas laughed or smiled at him, or felt the need to pull Cas over for a kiss because he was just too damn adorable, or felt the urge to shove him up against the bookshelves and get that damn shirt off him and kiss him silly, he told himself that it was only his body reacting––<i>not</i> his fault––and his thoughts getting all confused, because Dean Winchester wasn’t, like, <i>falling</i> or any stupid, sappy shit like that. </p><p><i>Especially</i> not for Castiel Novak.'</p><p>In which Dean denies his feelings with a fiery passion but can't seem to run away from them; a story told in five parts. (College!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strange Things

**December 3, 2012**

“...ean? Dean? Is there something wrong?” Cas asked, eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to the side.

Dean snapped himself out of it. Fuck, he’d zoned out again. The second time in the past ten minutes. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” He gave an apologetic grin. “Just a bit tired.” Which was a shameless lie, but he couldn’t exactly say, ‘Oh, I was just staring at your lips work on that ice cream like I was a horny fifteen year old again.’ Besides, Dean _wasn’t_. Not really.  

“Oh.” Cas paused, studying him with those freakin’ _intense_ blue eyes of his, and Dean felt heat crawl up his cheeks, never more thankful blushes didn’t show well on his skin. “Perhaps we should leave, then. We can talk tomorrow.” 

“What? No. No, we can stay.” He stuck a spoon of chocolate fudge sundae into his mouth. “No way in hell I’m just leavin’ this _delicious_ ice cream.” Also, he really liked the way Cas’ tongue tentavily flicked out on each spoonful of almost-melting ice cream to taste it, before Cas parted his mouth and sealed his lips over the spoon.

He bit his lip and Dean told himself that it _definitely_ wasn’t endearing or cute of any of that other chick-flick shit. Not even a little. “Are you...sure? You seem a bit out of it. And it’s not like ice cream in early December is a very good idea, either.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, I’m _fine_. And ice cream can be eaten _anytime_. Ice cream and pie––two timeless treats.” 

“Yes, well, you don’t _seem_ fine,” Cas said, ignoring the rest.

“Jesus, I’m _fine_ , I swear, just a bit tired. You know it was a late night yesterday.” He wasn’t sure what the chick’s name had been––Brady or Brandy or Brittany or something––but she’d had the perfect mouth and a great ass, too. “Seriously, you need to stop worrying like a mother hen,” he said with no real heat, finding Cas’ worry more endearing than anything.

... _Jesus_ , what was wrong with him? Finding _worry_ endearing. The hell was his problem? He must’ve been more tired than he’d thought. It was probably the coffee in his system talking.

Cas let out a puff of air, eyes still scanning his face. “If you’re sure…”

“I _am_ ,” Dean insisted. “Now, eat your ice cream.”

Cas held his gaze for a moment before ducking his head. “Fine,” he mumbled.

“Now, what were you saying?” Dean asked, eyes trained on Cas, ignoring almost everything else in the ice cream parlor––not like there was much going on. 

“Oh. Yes. I was talking about that new used bookstore that opened up a couple of weeks back––you know, down by the Starbucks at the corner of Freemont?”

“You mean the one you all but ransacked the day it opened?” Dean asked, voice dry. “Yeah. I remember.” Cas had bought, like, _fifty_ books, bringing them back to their shared dorm and having no place to put them.

A small blush powdered his cheeks and he gave Dean an almost-pout. “They were on _sale_ , Dean, and I needed all those books.”

Dean snorted. _“Sure_.” He smirked. “Bookworm.”

“I prefer the term bibliophile, thank you very much,” Cas said with a haughty sniff, eating another spoonful, and Dean found himself watching as he licked his lips afterward. 

Coming to eat ice cream had been a _horrible_ idea. Or a fucking awesome one. Dean wasn’t sure which. 

He cleared his throat. _Do not think about Cas’ mouth, dude. That’s weird._ Which, of course, meant that was all he could think about. “Right. So, the bookstore…?

“Oh, yeah. I got a part-time job there,” Cas said, smiling the widest Dean had ever seen him.

Dean cracked a grin. “Yeah? Congrats, man! Bet you’ll love it.”

Cas gave an almost dreamy sigh, blue eyes shining with excitement. “All those books…” 

Dean rolled his eyes, lips twitching upward. Jesus, he was like a kid on Christmas day, finally getting that present he’d wanted since _forever_. “Only you would get this gooey-eyed and excited over workin’ at a _bookstore_.” 

Cas nodded. “It’ll be _wonderful_. I won’t be able to read all the time, of course, but in between breaks...and all those _books_. As an added bonus, I’ll also get an employee discount––twenty-five percent off.”

Dean gave an exaggerated groan. “ _Shit_. I bet we won’t even be able to see the floor, our room’s gonna be drowning in books so bad.”

Cas’ eyes danced. “If I’m lucky, then, yes.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head, eating another spoonful. “You and your obsession with books, man––it ain’t healthy.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Says the man that goes around calling his car ‘Baby,’ and would marry it if it were legal,” he said, deadpan.

“Hey. I wouldn’t _marry_ Baby even it was leg––”

“Were, Dean. Not was. _Were_ ,” Cas interrupted.

Dean scowled. “Was, were, same thing, man.”

“No, actually, they aren’t the same,” Cas said, all seriousness. “ ‘Was’ implies that––”

“Cas, I wasn’t bein’ _literal_! Jesus, I meant it don’t really matter to me, ‘cause I don’t _care_. See how that works?”

Cas frowned. “You _should_ care, because English is the primary language with which you communicate. Grammar _is_ important, Dean.”

“Yeah, it’s important, when you’re, like, _writing_ reports an’ shit. In everyday conversation, as long as ya know what I’m sayin’ an’ what I mean, who cares if I use ‘was’ or ‘were’?”

“Which is exactly the problem. So few _do_!” Cas said, cheeks flushed with excitement. They always got this pale pink color whenever Cas got all excited or passionate about something. Dean convinced himself that was _not_ the reason he’d poked at the subject, knowing how passionate and touchy Cas was about grammar.

Passionate about grammar. _Grammar_ , of all things. Jesus, Cas was such a nerd. 

“People are so careless with their words, tossing them about like those disgusting sugar-free lollipops you get at the dentist’s,” Cas continued, brows furrowed, leaning forward on his forearms. “So few respect the _power_ words hold.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “You gonna jump me next?” He snorted. “Jesus, Cas, you’re such a nerd.” And then, blinking, “And did you seriously use ‘cheap sugar-free lollipops that you get from the dentist’ in a metaphor?” He smirked. “I mean, I’ve heard some really weird shit come outta your mouth, but that takes the cake.”

Cas opened his mouth and then shut it, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “Oh, be quiet,” he mumbled, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Dean’s smirk widened.

“And you’ve been telling me to eat my ice cream and yet have barely touched yours,” he accused, eyes narrowed.

“That’s ‘cause _you_ eat really––” _sensually “_ ––slowly, Cas. I can eat this whole thing in less’n a minute.”

“Less than a minute?” Cas repeated, voice dry. “Do excuse me if I don’t believe you. That’s a _huge_ sundae, Dean, and really cold, too. The only thing you’ll achieve by attempting to eat all that in under a minute is a rather painful brain freeze.” A pause, and then a small, sly smirk, eyes wide and innocent, and Dean assured himself that the sight didn’t make him want to pull Cas forward and kiss him then and there. “Perhaps you _should_ attempt to eat all that in under a minute.”

“Dick,” Dean said, unable to stop his lips quirking upward.

Cas gave a shrug, fighting to keep a smile down. 

“Ten bucks says I can eat this whole thing in under a minute and not get a brain freeze,” Dean said.

“It won’t work, Dean. You’ll be in pain.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, I can handle it. So you in or what?”

Cas shook his head. “You are incorrigibly obstinate,” he said.

“That I am, Cas,” Dean answered with a cocky smirk and a wink.

“...Fine, then. It’s a bet.”

Dean gave Cas a shark-like grin. “Prepare to lose.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt I’ll be the one to lose.”

So Dean set out to prove him wrong, shoveling spoon after spoon of cold vanilla ice cream down his gullet, sundae halfway done, ten seconds passing, he _so_ had this, fifteen seconds, he could–– _sonofabitchshitfuckshit._

“Brain freeze,” he gasped, eyes wide, the sharp pain unexpected. 

“Tilt your head back,” Cas said, leaning forward, brows furrowed with worry. “Touch your tongue to the top of your mouth. Breathe in through your mouth, out through your nose.”

Dean did just that, forcing himself to breathe in through his mouth. He counted to ten twice, and Dean felt the pain subside.

“Shit,” Dean said after a while, staring at his ice cream as if it’d just turned demonic, “that was worse than I’d thought.”

Cas melted back before giving him his patented ‘Dean-Winchester-you-are-an-idiot-why-do-I-put-up-with-this’ stare, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “I believe this is where one usually says, ‘I told you so.’ ”

He glared at Cas. “Cas, you _ass_.”

“Yes. Because turning out to be right is such a heinous act.” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re rhyming, too––great poetry there, Dean, you really know which insults to use when aiming to cut.”

Usually, one had to pay close attention to what Cas was saying to get whether he was being serious or sarcastic, and even then it was hard to tell. However, there was no denying the fact that this time, Cas was layering on the sass. Dean scowled at him. “Oh, fuck off.”

A twitch at the corner of his lips. “Don’t I have ice cream to finish?”

“I repeat, _fuck off_.”

Cas grinned at him. “You owe me ten dollars now, you know.”

Dean’s scowl deepened. “Don’t even know _why_ I put up with you,” he grumbled.

“Because it is much easier to befriend your roommate rather than dealing with hostility and anger,” he answered, taking another bite.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean said, waving a hand in the air. “Finish your goddamn ice cream––I’ve got a stupid-ass paper to write for class.” He paused and smirked. “Also, I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

Cas’ eyes snapped up to him and then back down. “Oh.”

“Yup. With _Mindy Crawford_.” Hottest chick on campus. Great ass, big boobs, and a good-looking face to top it all off. 

“I see.” Cas stirred his now-melting ice cream around his bowl.

“You know, Cas,” Dean said, leaning forward, “you should really get laid. We’ve been sharin’ a room for two years now and you haven’t brought back a single chick.” 

“Dean, just because I don’t bring girls back to our room doesn’t mean I haven’t dated in the past,” Cas said, giving him a flat stare.

A surge of emotion raced through him. So Cas had been going around banging chicks this whole time? Some bimbo’d had her hands all over Cas, kissing him, _fucking_ him, this whole time?

_Whoa there,_ he thought. _Calm down. Who cares if Cas got some much-needed action? It’s a good thing._

Besides, Dean wasn’t, like, _jealous_ or anything. Dean Winchester never got jealous, especially when it came to Cas and any girls he may or may not have banged. Obviously, all that emotion he had just felt was protectiveness. Cas was, like, _sensitive_. Dean didn’t want him getting hurt.

No jealousy or possessiveness at all. He was just being a _good friend_. Like Kirk was to Spock. Just looking out for his pal. 

Throughout this inner epiphany, he had kept his face carefully neutral––he didn’t want Cas getting, you know, _ideas_ or something, because that would be weird––but now, he beamed at him. “Dude! You never told me you were gettin’ laid! When was this, huh? C’mon, man, details!”

Cas fidgeted, eyes still on his ice cream. “I don’t think telling you would be––”

“Oh, _c’mon_. Don’t be a pussy, man. Just _tell_ me.”

“I…”

“Cas. _Cas_.”

Cas sighed. “...Very well.” He started telling Dean about some chick named Elizabeth Bennet. 

Whenever Dean felt a surge of emotion––which was more often than he had expected––he dismissed it, trying to focus back on this chick, who was apparently pretty, smart, funny, _perfect_ ––which was, you know, great for Cas and all. He was happy for him, and Dean told Cas as much many times, complimenting this _Elizabeth Bennet_ even though he felt uneasy about her. Who knew who she was? What if she was some sort of psycho killer? Or a con? What if she was just _using_ Cas? Dean hadn’t heard of an ‘Elizabeth Bennet’ on campus, and he’d never heard anyone mention her. Jo and Chuck and Ruby would’ve heard about her, too, right? Maybe Charlie knew about her––she knew _everyone_. He’d have to ask her. Still, he layered on the compliments––Cas seemed to like her. A lot, if judging by the amount of detail he put into describing her, and Dean was going to be supportive and shit because God knew Cas needed some fun in his life, and if that came in the form of a girlfriend, then, hey, good for him.

And if Dean found himself focusing on those lips of his as he spoke, he told himself that it was only because they were a little feminine––all pale pink and bow-shaped and plush––and he was just sexually frustrated because he hadn’t been laid in a while and his brain was just confusing them for a girl’s lips or something because Dean Winchester was _not gay_.

_Especially_ not for Castiel Novak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got this whole thing written out (~13000 words), and I thought that I'd post the first section up since I haven't gotten 'round to editing the others. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please, let me know what you thought! Was it good? Bad? I'd love some concrit. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you in the next chapter!


	2. What's This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And if Dean’s heart had decided to do a few jumping jacks when he’d seen the warm smile, his cheeks still flushed with heat, mouth dry, he told himself that it was only the earlier guilt plaguing him, and that it was really hot in the library, and it had nothing to do with any feelings Dean absolutely _did not_ have for Cas––his _best friend_ ––because Dean Winchester was _not_ developing a stupid, middle-school-girl thing like a goddamn _crush_.
> 
>  _Especially_ not on Castiel Novak.'

 

**January 1, 2013**

Okay, so, _maybe_ Dean was a little bi. Just a little. He’d definitely noticed and even appreciated the male specimen–– _hello,_ Dr. Sexy––and, hell, he’d even made out with a couple of guys in his high school days. His dad had walked in on him once, and though he hadn’t _yelled_ at Dean or anything––he’d just stood there, face red, looking everywhere but at Dean, stammering and trying to get the hell outta there without leaving a ‘wrong impression’––Dean had still seen the shock and flicker of disgust in his dad’s eyes.

So, those days were behind him, and he was happy banging chicks and not dudes. 

Obviously, this newfound obsession with Cas’ lips was just a remnant of those days. He’d get over it. It didn’t mean that he was, like, _crushing_ on his best friend, because that was just weird. Dean Winchester was ninety-five percent straight, and he only found Cas’ lips attractive because they were a bit _girly_. Which was, you know, cool. But if they’d been more _masculine_ and guy-like, he would have no attraction/urge to kiss them. 

And, okay, maybe Dean was watching Cas’ teeth worry his lower lip as he typed some paper for his class instead of doing his own work, but that was okay because it didn’t really _mean_ anything. It was just _hormones_.

Cas looked up and Dean dropped his gaze, pretending he’d been focusing on his textbook the whole time. 

“Is there something wrong? Is there something you’d like to say?” They were in the library, so Cas was whispering, gravelly voice sounding even lower, and the sound _did not_ give Dean the urge to shiver. 

“Hmmm?” Dean hummed, slowly looking up from his book as if he’d been absorbed. He looked at Cas––and if Dean noticed how big and intense and _pretty_ Cas’ eyes were, framed with long dark lashes and fucking _sparkling_ , it was only because he was a very observant guy; Dean noticed shit like that––and gave Cas his polite ‘what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about?’ smile. “What?”

“You were...staring,” Cas explained, shifting in his chair, “so I assumed you had something to say.”

_Shit_. So Dean hadn’t been as subtle as he’d hoped. “Uh, no, I don’t have anything to say.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows for effect. “Was I staring?”

Cas opened his mouth and then shut it again, looking down. He cleared his throat and looked back up, saying, “Oh. Um, perhaps I just imagined something, then.” His eyes ducked back to his laptop, and he glanced up once more, mumbling a quick, “Sorry,” before concentrating on the screen.

Dean cleared his throat, too, biting his lip as he focused on his own textbook. He would glance up every so often to find Cas duck his gaze, shoulders and forearms tense, and would force himself to relax his own muscles.

_Great job, Dean_ , he thought, _you made everything so fucking_ awkward _. Moron._

He cleared his throat. “So...how’s that paper comin’ along?” Internally, he winced at the lame conversation starter. Oh yeah. Dean Winchester was smooth as _fuck_. 

Cas raised his head toward him, eyes still on the screen. “I’m…” He unglued his gaze and looked at Dean. “It’s coming along well. Three more pages and I’ll be done.” He turned back to the screen.

“Huh. That’s good.” 

Silence. The quiet _tap-tap_ of Cas’ keys was the only sound heard.

Dean tried to focus on his book, knowing he really needed to get his work done. _Tried_ being the key word. He couldn’t help how his eyes kept traveling back to Cas, noting how ruffled his hair looked, and all he could think about was how _soft_ it would feel underneath his hands, how perfect it was for holding onto while kissing, and, really, how could he learn about _engineering_ when all he wanted to do was learn all about Cas’ perfect––.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. He’d let his thoughts wander off again, and he did _not_ like where they’d gone.

“...Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas asked, pausing what he was doing and gazing at Dean. 

Dean snapped himself out of it, cheeks flushing when he realized he’d been staring at Cas the whole time. How abso-fucking-lutely _perfect_. “Um, n-nothing,” he stuttered, focusing on his book.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was soft but firm.

Dean swallowed, keeping his gaze down. Stupid, stupid fucking _hormones_ ––this was all _their_ fault. If his stupid body hadn’t fucking betrayed him and started to think Cas was _hot_ , this would _not_ be happening.

“Dean,” Cas repeated, tone booking no argument. “Look at me.”

Dean sighed and looked up. “Yeah?”

Cas shut his laptop and leaned forward, and _great_ , he was getting fucking _serious_. “What’s wrong? You seem out of it these days. You retreat within yourself during conversations, you seem to stare into space more often...that isn’t odd in itself, but it’s strange for you.” Cas’ stare was intense. Probing. 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Cas,” he insisted, averting his gaze. 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Do excuse me if I don’t believe that. What’s _wrong_ , Dean?”

“ _Nothing_.” It came out sharper than he’d intended. _Great_. Now there was no way in hell Cas was dropping it.

Cas frowned. “Dean, there’s obviously––.”

“Drop it, Cas.” He glared at Cas, warning clear in his voice.

Cas opened his mouth as if to speak, crease between his brows, then shut it. Cas just _stared_ at him, unleashing the full intensity of his laser-like gaze, and if it were possible, Dean would’ve swore Cas was reading his mind. 

Dean fidgeted, breaking eye contact, heat crawling up his neck

“...Does this have to do with your family? Your classes?” 

“No! Dammit, Cas, it’s _nothing_ , I swear. I’m just...a bit confused these days, okay? Workin’ shit out with myself and stuff. Nothing’s wrong.” 

“About what? What are you confused about?”

_Dammit_. Damn Cas and his stupid need to _know everything_. “About...my major,” Dean lied, guilt coiling around his gut at how easily the lie came.

The crease between his brows disappeared. “Oh. You’re not sure engineering’s what you want to do?”

“No. I mean, I know I’m interested in engineering and stuff, but I dunno if I wanna do it my whole _life_ , you know? I mean, yeah, I’ve been doin’ it for two years, but I’m just twenty––what if I start hating what I’m doin’ later in life?” College had prepared him well for bullshitting eloquently. 

“I do, actually––I went through the same thing. In fact, I sometimes still feel the same way.” Dean forced the shame down as he saw how easily Cas swallowed the lie. It was necessary, and, besides, Dean wasn’t _totally_ lying. He _was_ a bit worried about that shit. “I’d say don’t worry, but I know how useless that is, for if it were that easy, wouldn’t you just _stop worrying_?”

Dean’s lips twitched up, though he didn’t deserve to smile. He’d thought the same exact thing whenever someone had given him that advice. _Don’t worry._ Well, _thank you_ for that _great_ piece of advice, because the thought had _never_ crossed his mind. 

“But, really, Dean, if you love engineering––which I know you do––you’ll be fine,” Cas continued, and Dean snapped himself back to reality. “Really. You’re passionate about engineering, and these type of passions don’t just fade away. Not only that, you’ve got a good chance of getting a job afterward, too, because engineers are always in demand.” Cas paused. “And you’d make a really good one.” 

Dean looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, Cas,” he said, voice soft, offering Cas a smile. Oh, God, he was a _horrible_ person. Here Cas was, being all nice and helpful and caring and shit, and Dean was lying through his teeth, lying to his best friend, putting all that honesty in Cas’ expression to waste. And Cas had _complimented_ him, too. Jesus Christ, Dean made Satan look like the All-American Boy Scout. 

Cas grinned tentatively back. “It’s no problem, Dean. If you _do_ want to... _talk_ , I’m willing to, uh, listen.” His cheeks were flushed and, after a moment, as if jolted by electricity, he opened up his laptop and started typing again. “Even if you do seem to be allergic to discussions that that involve any hint of emotions,” he added, eyes still on his laptop, shoulders tense.

Dean swallowed down a lump of emotion. What the fuck was he, a twelve year old girl? “Thank you, all-knowing _sensei_ ,” he joked, trying to diffuse the way-too-touchy-feely mood. “Your wisdom is unparalleled.” 

Cas’ cheeks became redder and he scowled at the screen.

“But, uh…” Dean cleared his throat. “But seriously, Cas, thanks. For...yeah. Thanks.” And then, because this was getting way too close to a chick-flick moment, “Guess your old age finally came in handy.”

Cas rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing. “I’m not old, Dean––only three years older than you.”

“Yeah, but you act like an eighty-year-old man. I mean, you can _legally_ drink and you’re never smashed–– _I_ get drunk more often than you. You never let loose and have fun, man.” His gut still roiled at the thought of how _easy_ it had been to lie, but he told himself that it was better than telling the truth. Besides, it hadn’t all been bullshit––Dean _had_ been a bit worried about what he was doing with his life. Just not as worried as he’d made out to be.

Cas huffed. “Oh, don’t you start. I just don’t see the point of become so inebriated you can’t tell left from right, or forcing yourself to make smalltalk with people you don’t really like. And you know I don’t do one-night stands––pun intended.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, waving his hand––and, _fine_ , maybe he kinda liked Cas this way better than if he were a party animal. “You’re a _commitment_ kind o’ guy.”

Cas leveled him with a look. “There isn’t anything wrong with committing to a relationship, Dean.”

“No, but it ain’t _worth_ it, is it? I mean, breakups happen. Why not just ditch the whole _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_ breakup and go straight to the good part––the _sex_?” Dean paused, scowling. “And you’re just sayin’ that ‘cause of this _Elizabeth_ chick. She’s messin’ with your mind, man.”

Cas stiffened for a second, pausing his typing, before saying, “I assure you, she isn’t.”

“And I still haven’t even _met_ her. I don’t even know who she is! What if she’s bad for you?” Dean had asked Charlie about her, but she’d burst out laughing, tears streaming down her face, and she wouldn’t tell Dean _why_ , just smirk at him and say, ‘Oh, God, Cas is _too much_.’ He’d gotten similar reactions from Jo and Chuck, both just as tight-lipped and amused about it.

Which was frustrating as fuck, because Elizabeth Bennet sounded like _bad news_ , and he needed to make sure Cas was _safe_ with her, but Cas barely mentioned her and rarely went out on dates and always evaded Dean’s questions. Something was up. 

“I don’t….I don’t think you need to worry about her. She and I haven’t been getting along very well. I believe we’re headed toward a...breakup.” 

Dean straightened. Breakup? “Really?” Okay, that had sounded too happy. In a more somber tone, he said, “I mean, that sucks, man.”

Cas shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. It feels almost as if we’re both in different...universes.”

_Universes_. Damn, that was even bigger than being in different _worlds_. The breakup was _so_ happening. And Cas didn’t sound too sad––he was calm. Hell, he was typing up his paper while talking about it, so, obviously, it wasn’t going to affect him too bad. 

“Well, you know what they say––other fish in the sea and all,” Dean offered.

Cas eyed him, wary. “Yes. There are other fish in the sea.”

Dean nodded. He had _known_ Elizabeth was bad. Something about her was just off-putting. He had _so_ known. “You’re probably better off without her, anyway.”

Cas sighed. “Yes. I probably am,” he mumbled. 

There was a moment of silence. Dean cleared his throat. “So...when you gonna break it off?”

“This month? Next month, perhaps?” Cas shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just wait for her to break it off.”

“No. No, no, you should totally break it off first. Don’t, like, _wait._ ” Who knew if Elizabeth even had the guts to break it off? Cas should’ve broken it off with her earlier, gotten rid of her. She sounded _weird_. Probably didn’t even like pie. 

“...You seem more in a hurry to end this than I do,” Cas said, lips twitching.

Dean shrugged, forcing himself to calm down with the whole, “Down with Elizabeth,” spiel. “Yeah, I dunno––I just didn’t like her. I mean, I know I’ve never _met_ her––” He _looked_ at Cas, as if to say, ‘And who’s fault is that, I wonder?’ “––but she sounded fake. Like, way too good to be real.”

Cas gave an almost imperceptible wince.

“Not that––I mean, I don’t mean anything _bad_ by it,” Dean backtracked. He did _not_ want to piss Cas off or force him to change his mind or _hurt_ him or something. “I just––yeah. You should, uh, break it off. If you feel it isn’t working for you.” Dean sighed, knowing the next words had to be said. “Or, if you like her, try and work it out…?”

It was an absolutely _horrible_ idea, but Dean had to be _supportive_. If Cas _liked_ her, then Dean had to like her, too. And offer good advice. And play therapist or matchmaker and rally his friend on to _fix his relationship_ or whatever.

“Oh, no, um, we’re probably beyond fixing,” Cas said, tone melancholy, sighing before turning to his laptop.

“Oh. That...sucks.” Dean forced his tone to sound sad and sympathetic, because breakups were _bad_. Not good. Even if the chick was weird and not good for Cas, he had to be _supportive._ “But, hey, you can totally get over this, yeah? Once you break it off, we can totally go out for drinks. Get you smashed. You don’t need her, man,” Dean said, and then, because Cas didn’t seem _too_ broken up about it, he added, “ ‘Sides, you’ve got _me_ ––the most awesome friend _ever_.”

Cas’ lips stretched into a warm smile, and he looked at Dean, eyes crinkled at the corners, all attention on him. “Indeed, I do.” 

Dean smiled back. “Elizabeth, _Shelizabeth_ , man. You’re too good for her, anyway.”

Cas shook his head, not saying anything, and Dean turned back to his book.

And if Dean’s heart had decided to do a few jumping jacks when he’d seen the warm smile, his cheeks still flushed with heat, mouth dry, he told himself that it was only the earlier guilt plaguing him, and that it was _really_ hot in the library, and it had nothing to do with any _feelings_ Dean absolutely did _not_ have for Cas––his _best friend_ ––because Dean Winchester was _not_ developing a stupid, middle-school-girl thing like a goddamn _crush._

_Especially_ not on Castiel Novak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Kiss the Girl' is basically what's been going through my mind the whole time I've been writing this. Man, these two _really_ need to kiss. Like right now. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked this second part! Just to make it clear, this _is_ about a month after the first one, so you missed Dean's whole "gay freakout." (which I didn't really wanna write).
> 
> Do tell me what you thought. :)


	3. I Won't Say (I'm In Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And if, as they walked through the bookshelves, alone, Dean felt his heart thump loudly every time Cas laughed or smiled at him, or felt the need to pull Cas over for a kiss because he was just too damn adorable, or felt the urge to shove him up against the bookshelves and get that damn shirt off him and kiss him silly, he told himself that it was only his body reacting–– _not_ his fault––and his thoughts getting all confused, because Dean Winchester wasn’t, like, _falling_ or any stupid, sappy shit like that. 
> 
> _Especially_ not for Castiel Novak.'

**February 28, 2013**

Okay, so, _maybe_ Dean had a little crush on Cas. Just a small one.  Like, a really, _really_ tiny one, but that was okay, since he wasn’t going to, like, _confess_ to Cas or anything. And it didn’t even really _mean_ anything––his brain was just confusing his mostly-platonic feelings for Cas, mixing them up with his not-so-platonic physical attraction toward Cas (and who could blame Dean for thinking Cas was hot? He was _smokin’_ ), and confusing that for a crush. 

And, _fine_ , maybe Dean had a little more-than-platonic attraction toward Cas, too, but that was only because Cas was kinda awesome. Besides, Dean would soon get over it because although Cas _was_ awesome, he wasn’t _that_ awesome. It was a phase, like that one time he’d gotten obsessed with _Days of Our Lives_. He’d loved it, but a few months later, he’d realized it wasn’t that good. 

It was the same with Cas. He _thought_ he had a crush––and maybe he _did_ ––but he’d get over it in a couple of weeks, tops. He’d find a hot chick or two and bang her, and if he did it enough times, he was sure he’d lose this stupid _physical_ attraction toward Cas, and he could go back to wanting to be justfriends. So, really, the only reason Dean was currently on his way to the bookstore where Cas worked on his time off, two coffees in hand, was because he was an awesome friend, and a damn thoughtful person, too. There was nothing wrong with bringing coffee to your best friend––people did it _all_ the time. It didn’t mean anything, and it wasn’t, like, a _coffee date_ or something. Just two friends. Hanging out. Drinking coffee. Totallynormal.

He stopped in front of the bookstore, the large poster plastered across the window of the shop announcing, ‘50% OFF,’ the sign up top reading, ‘Page One,’ in fancy script. He snorted to himself––it was the perfect place for Cas to work at––and pushed the door open with his shoulder. A bell announced his arrival, and he scanned the bookstore, searching for the familiar black hair, grin on his face at the thought of seeing Cas. They hadn’t been spending much time together lately, and he really just wanted to talk. 

The store was small and packed with books––row after row of bookshelves stared back at him––and to his right, he saw a sitting area with comfortable chairs and a fancy fireplace. The check-out counter was further in, and there was an attractive redhead standing behind it. His smile lessened as he failed to spot Cas among the hoards of books.

“Hey! Welcome to Page One,” the redhead called, small smile on her face.

To flirt or not to flirt? Oh, to hell with it––why not? He had a plan to uphold, after all––get laid until the attraction went away. “Hey,” he said, walking toward her with his most winning, charming smile in place, the one that helped him get away with anything. He squinted at her name-tag––yeah, he used it as an excuse to check out her boobs; she was well endowed––and added, “Anna.” 

Her grin grew, brown eyes sparkling. “Well, now that you know my name, it’s only fair I learn yours.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, smirk teasing his lips. “What, and ruin the whole ‘attractive, mysterious stranger,’ thing I’ve got goin’?”

Anna leaned forward, lifting an eyebrow. “Who said anything about _attractive_?”

“ _Ouch_ ,” Dean said, giving a dramatic wince before cocking his head to the side, dropping his voice as he asked, “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

She leaned back, biting her lip, cocking her own head to the side as she smirked. “Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. “Not even a bit.”

“Not even a _little_ bit?” He’d ask about Cas as soon as this was done, because although the chick _was_ hot, he’d come here for Cas, and he was going to spend time with _Cas_.

She ducked her head to hide her smile. “No, not even––.”

“ _Dean_?” Cas’ incredulous voice interrupted Anna.

Dean straightened , cheeks warming. _Shit_. Cas had caught him flirting with Anna. He might get the wrong idea and think––.

_Who cares if he does? It ain’t like he’s gonna care whether or not you go ‘round flirtin’ with or datin’ some chick. Hell, he’d probably be happy for you,_ he thought, cutting himself off. It still didn’t stop him from stuttering out a, “C-Cas?” He cleared his throat. _Get a goddamn grip_. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Cas’ eyes flickered between him and Anna, who was looking between the two, brows furrowed. “Not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here?”

Dean noted how well the white-button down shirt fit Cas, glad he wasn’t wearing the tan trench-coat that hid his body, for a second forgetting he was supposed to reply. He blinked–– _focus, Dean, Cas is talkin’ to you_ ––and said, “Oh. I was, um, in the neighborhood and decided to stop by.”

Cas raised his eyebrows, eyes scanning Dean’s face. “Really.”

Dean winced internally. Okay, now that he thought about it, his excuse was really lame––Jesus, he might as well tattoo ‘I’VE GOT A CRUSH ON YOU,’ across his forehead, maybe do a little dance to go along with it. “Yeah,” he said, holding out Cas’ coffee. “Here, uh, I brought this.”

Cas blinked before smiling that too-much-teeth, eyes-crinkled-at-the-corners smile that never failed to get Dean’s heart racing. “Oh. Thank you.” He put the books in his hands on the counter and took the coffee, sipping it before humming appreciatively. “You got the white chocolate mocha.”

Dean shrugged, fighting to keep the heat off his face. A fucking smile should _not_ make his insides melt into a puddle of goo, dammit. “Knew you liked it.”

Cas tilted his head, smile smaller though still just as warm. “Thank you.”

Dean took a sip, trying to calm down his jittery pulse. Jesus Christ, he was acting like a twelve-year-old girl in _pigtails,_ facing her crush. _Get a fucking grip. You’re a grown-ass man._ “No problem.”

“Wait…” Anna started, eyes flicking between the two before landing on Cas. “ _This_ is Dean?”

Dean whipped his head toward her, having forgotten she was there for a second, and then at Cas, who was blushing. _Blushing_?

“...Yes,” Cas mumbled, looking anywhere but at the two. 

“Oh.” She raked her eyes over Dean and smirked. “I see.”

“ _Anna_ ,” Cas growled. Okay, the _hell_ was going on here?

“What?” She turned too-wide-to-be-innocent eyes toward him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Wait. What d’you mean?” Dean asked, eyes lingering on Cas before turning to Anna.

“Well, it’s just––.”

“Nothing,” Cas cut Anna off, glaring. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah.” She coughed. “Absolutely nothing. He’s just told me you’re his roommate.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, an’ Bieber kicks Zeppelin’s ass.” He stared between the two, settling on Cas, and crossed his arms. “What aren’t you tellin’ me?”

Anna scoffed but Dean stayed focused on Cas, raising an eyebrow when no response came.

“...I just told Anna––,” Cas started slowly.

“He just told me that me and you would make a good couple,” Anna finished for him. “As in, we’d go well together. Or, at least, we’d work.”

Dean veered his head toward Anna, arms falling to the side, lips forming an ‘o.’ “Oh.” So Cas had been trying to set him up? He didn’t _want_ this Anna chick, didn’t want to date some other chick, he wanted C––.

Dean cut his train of thought before it delved into dangerous territory. He wasn’t poking _that_ area with a ten foot pole. Hell, he was content locking it up in a box and shoving it to the darkest, most-out-of-place corners in his mind. He forced his disappointment and hurt down, knowing he had no right to feel anyof those emotions. Cas was being _nice_. He was doing a good thing, being a good friend, like he _always_ was.

“Which is why he didn’t want to tell you,” Anna continued, and Dean forced himself to pay attention. “Because it would be weird. Also, he was joking when he said it, though I may want to take him seriously now…” 

Cas had been joking? Thank _God._ A ridiculous amount of relief blossomed within his chest, though he still felt the urge to frown in a manly way–– _not_ pout––at Cas’ joke. It wasn’t a funny one, that was sure, but instead he raised an eyebrow at Cas, playing it cool. Couldn’t let him start having _ideas_ or something. “Seriously? _That’s_ what you weren’t tellin’ me?”

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes. I thought you’d find it...odd.”

“But you were jokin’, right?”

“Yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he heard the truth from Cas’ mouth. “Then why’d I mind? You were kiddin’.” He ran his eyes over Anna, more for show than anything. “An’ I wouldn’t mind bein’ serious, either,” he added with a wink.

Anna laughed. “Sorry. I’m already taken.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Your point?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas warned.

“What?” He turned to Cas, all innocence and wide eyes. He had a reputation to uphold.

Cas sighed. “You are _shameless_.

Dean smirked. “That I am.”

“Well, not that I’m not enjoying this, but I’ve got to go,” Anna piped up, picking up a clipboard in her hand and pointing to the side. “Catalog the books and whatnot.” She grinned at Dean. “Pleasure meeting you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Dean said, smiling back. 

“But I’ve already cataloged the books,” Cas pointed out, brows furrowed.

Anna stiffened for a second before smiling at Cas. “Yeah, well, we just got some new ones.”

“No, I don’t think––.”

“ _Yes_ , Castiel, we do have new ones. You and Dean hang out here, okay? I’ll be back in a few,” Anna pressed on, grin too wide, shuffling to the side.

Cas blinked, hand clenching the cup. “Oh. Oh, yes. Okay.”

“Thanks,” she said, offering Dean another smile before darting away.

Dean frowned. They way she’d been behaving, it was almost as if she’d wanted to leave him and Cas alone on purpose, like one would when a friend’s crush…

Nah. Couldn’t be. Dean shrugged it off. Maybe Anna was just plain weird. “O- _kay_ ,” he said into the silence, staring after her. “She all right?” 

“Yes.” Cas stepped behind the counter, focusing on the books he’d settled down. “She’s just...in a rush to get those books cataloged.” 

When Cas looked up at him, Dean raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged in a ‘What are you going to do?’ way. 

Dean decided to drop it. “So! You goin’ to give me the grand tour or what?” he asked with a wide grin, sipping his coffee.

Cas smiled at him, all warm and fond, and Dean wondered what he’d done to deserve it. “I’d love to.” He gestured to the side with his head. “Come this way.”

Dean followed him into the rows of bookshelves.

Cas started talking. “So, _these_ are all our fiction books––I know, you’re not that big a fan, but bear with me, I’ll show you the science section in a moment. Anyway, I’d give some recommendations, but I know you don’t really like…”

Dean focused more on the tone of his voice than what he was saying, watching Cas’ mouth work, noting the way his arms gesticulated as he started talking about the books. He felt a small smile work its way onto his lips as he saw how Cas’ blue eyes were alight with excitement–– _Jesus_ , Cas was such a nerd, and it shouldn’tbe cute or shit, but it was––and he made sure to insert a wisecrack here and there to keep himself in the conversation. He didn’t want Cas thinking he didn’t _care_ or anything.

And if, as they walked through the bookshelves, alone, Dean felt his heart thump loudly every time Cas laughed or smiled at him, or felt the need to pull Cas over for a kiss because he was just _too_ damn adorable, or felt the urge to shove him up against the bookshelves and get that damn shirt off him and kiss him silly, he told himself that it was only his body reacting–– _not_ his fault––and his thoughts getting all confused, because Dean Winchester wasn’t _,_ like, _falling_ or any stupid, sappy shit like that. 

_Especially_ not for Castiel Novak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Dean. *sigh* When will you learn? Denial ain't healthy (SEEWHATIDIDTHERE?). 
> 
> Anyway, you know how I said this was originally six parts? Well, I lied. Or, rather, I miscalculated (okay I just suck at counting, and my handwriting sucked so I thought there was another part when there wasn't). It's actually going to be five parts. Though I'm thinking of writing a short, smutty sequel which will pick up right after this story cuts off. Maybe I'll just add that to this story. Eh, don't know yet. 
> 
> So, in conclusion, I don't know how many parts this story will have, because though I want to write a smutty sequel, I've never written smut. And it'll probably suck. So I probably won't post it. So, really, I may have just wasted your time. Sorry about that. 
> 
> ANYWAY, I believe you've had enough of me rambling. Thanks for reading, and if you leave a comment/kudos, you're guaranteed to make my day. :)


	4. If You Were Gay...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And if, as they walked through the dark bookstore, Dean’s mind screamed at him to take advantage of the situation, to pin Cas against a bookshelf and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, to hope and believe Cas did feel something for Dean, that they could work, Dean told it to shut the fuck up because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Dean Winchester was about to endanger their relationship by babbling some stupid-ass confession that would make him seem like a pansy and accomplish nothing. 
> 
> Especially not to Castiel Novak.'

**March 30, 2013**

Okay, so, _maybe_ Dean was kinda in love with Cas. And, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, it wasn’t just ‘a phase’. He found himself thinking about Cas when he shouldn’t be, felt the urge to just _kiss_ him much more often, to run his hands through his hair, and, yeah, he’d jerked off to the thought of Cas, too. More than that, though, he wanted to see Cas smile. Like, all the time. At him. Dean’d even caught himself _sighing dreamily_ while thinking of Cas’ blue eyes––why the _fuck_ did Cas have such stupidly blue eyes, anyway?––and his laugh.

Meet Dean Winchester: actual tween girl.

Jesus Christ, it was _bad_. Worst of all, Dean knew he couldn’t do anything about it because Cas was straight as a rod, which sucked, but, hey, that was the way it was. Dean just had to deal.

He rolled his eyes as he got the next paragraph in the book he was reading. _Obviously_ Ty was in love with Zane, and vice versa––Christ, you’d have to be _blind_ not to see it. The assholery was just a front Ty’d put up. Zane needed to get his head out of his ass and fucking _kiss him_ already, instead of going all, “Oh, I must control myself”. Jesus, they were idiots. The evidence was clear as day.

...Yeah, Dean had decided to deal with his unrequited love by reading gay romance novels. _Bite him_. At least he hadn’t gone the stuffed-chock-full-of-heroine routine.

From the side came a low chuckle. “ _A Brief History of Time_ that frustrating?”

Dean started, eyes landing on Cas. “ _A Brief History of Time_?” The hell was he––. “Oh. Yeah. _Very_ ,” Dean quipped in a dry voice. _A Brief History of Time_ was the book he’d cover-swapped with, and it sure as _hell_ hadn’t been easy finding the right size. The book he was actually reading was called _Cut and Run,_ but Dean wouldn’t be caught dead with _that_ in his hands. 

He had a reputation to uphold, dammit, and his newfound obsession with kinda sappy, well-written, gay romance novels (with really hot sex) wasn’t going to ruin it.

“You know, you really should purchase that,” Cas continued. He leaned in and squinted, and Dean tried his best not to lean back and tip Cas off. “It’s only...ten dollars.”

Dean would’ve loved to buy it, but there was no way in hell he was walking up to Anna and shoving this in her face. He’d never live it down, and he’d probably never be taken seriously again. So, he shrugged. “Eh. It ain’t that good.”

“Really? You seem rather absorbed,” Cas said.

Dean scowled at him. “Don’t you have some books to put away or something?”

Cas gave him a _look_. “No, actually. I’m done for the day.”

“Wait, so we’re leaving?” He could hear the pout in his own voice but right now, he didn’t give a flying fuck. He needed to know if Zane figured out Ty was _so_ lusting after him, dammit!

Cas’ eyebrows shot up in amusement, lips twisting into a––kinda hot––smirk. “Well, yes, since it’s closing time.” A pause. “You really enjoy reading here, don’t you? You really love the bookstore,” he added with a shit-eating grin. 

Dean scowled at him. “Shaddup.”

He held out his hands, palms facing out, smirk in place. “No need to get defensive. I was merely saying.”

“Yeah, well, _don’t_ ,” he grunted, getting up, facing Cas. “And I ain’t _defensive_.” It was all Cas’ fault, he decided, the whole deal with Dean _enjoying_ reading and getting addicted to romance novels. If Cas didn’t work here, Dean wouldn’t’ve come here in the first place, and he would’ve stayed far, far away from the reading and the books. If not for Cas, he’d probably be nursing a beer and picking up a chick rather than reading about Ty and Zane and their passionate, hot, almost-explosive love affair. 

Dean _had,_ after all, first started coming to the bookstore because he’d wanted to spend more time with Cas, watch him while he worked. He wanted to fucking spend _time_ with him and _watch_ him while he _worked_.

Yeah. _That’s_ how bad it had become. Dean had been so desperate to spend more time with Cas, he’d resorted to coming to a bookstore––where Cas spent most of his free-time––to do that. Jesus _fuck_ he was pathetic. 

If only Sammy could see him now. He’d probably bust a rib, laughing so hard. 

He’d started browsing through the shelves after the first few days, Cas being busy and Dean being bored––he could only bother Cas so much––, and as a joke, he’d wandered into the gay-romance section, intent on scoffing at the sappy stupidness and maybe entertaining himself for a while making fun, but instead liking it. A lot. And since his pride wouldn’t let him purchase the books––it wasn’t as if he could just order them online; he’d be found out, he was sure––, he’d resorted to cover-swapping and reading them in the reading area, making sure no one saw.

All in all, reading in a comfy chair with coffee in his hands and a nice view of Cas’ ass or profile as he worked wasn’t so bad. Didn’t mean Dean wouldn’t grip about it, though.

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for the book in Dean’s hands. “Here, let me take that––.”

“No!” Dean jerked his hand back, eyes wide, realizing later his reaction wasn’t the best way to avoid suspicion.

Cas stopped, frowning at him. “I know my way around these shelves better than you do. I’ll go put it back quickly and then we may leave.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, thanks, but it’s fine,” Dean said, forcing himself to calm down, clutching the book in his hands. “I’ll go put it back.”

Cas’ frown deepened. “It’s no problem, Dean, really.”

“Yeah, no, I know, but still. Humor me.”

Cas tilted his head, frown still in place, but stepped away.

Dean surged forward but before he knew what had happened, the book was snatched from his hands.

“ _Cas_!” he protested, lunging at him. Fuck, he could _not_ have Cas reading the book.

Cas sidestepped his advances with practiced ease. Damn him and his stupid-ass grace and his stupid-ass reflexes and his long, lean limbs and _damn him_ , period. 

He opened the book, walking back each time Dean tried to get hold of him, eyes scanning the text, eyebrows climbing his forehead and a Cheshire-cat grin creeping across his lips. He looked at Dean, who was now stationary and glowering at him––Cas was too fucking _quick_ to get a hold of, and there wasn’t anything he could do now––and asked, eyes glinting, “ _Ty_? _Ty_ and _Zane,_ Dean, _really_? You’re reading _Cut and Run_?”

“Shaddup,” Dean growled, cheeks warm.

“But–– _Cut and Run_?” Cas’ voice shook with suppressed laughter. 

Dean’s blush enlarged, spreading down his neck, his chest, and he snatched the book out of Cas’ hands. He poked a finger into his chest, hissing, “If you breathe a word o’ this to anyone–– _anyone_ ––I will pummel your ass to Tuesday, got that?” Which was a bit of an empty threat, considering the fact Cas had a second-degree black-belt in Jujitsu, but Dean had a point to make.

Cas held out his hands in a placating gesture, but the smirk on his face was _not_ helping. “Okay,” he said, the suppressed laughter replaced with fond amusement, and that was somehow _worse_. “I will not inform anyone of your secret love affair with romance novels.”

Dean settled withe a dignified, “Oh, _fuck you_ ,” and stomped away. As Dean switched back the covers, muttering under his breath about stupid, nosy friends with their stupid, annoying _reflexes_ , Cas came up behind him.

“You know,” he started, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just because you enjoy reading gay romance nov––.”

“ _Shhhh_ ,” Dean hissed, whirling around and, okay, Cas was much closer than expected, nothing but a couple of centimeters separating them, and if he leaned in just a bit, he could––.

He shook himself out of his stupid thoughts and remembered why he was angry, saying in the same harsh whisper, “You want the whole fuckin’ world to know? Jesus, pipe _down_.”

Cas licked his lips and Dean’s eyes tracked the movement. “My…apologizes,” he murmured, eyes flickering down and then up again, looking into Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s cheeks warmed and he broke eye contact, shuffling back. “Yeah, well, be more careful,” he snapped with no real heat. 

Cas raised his eyebrows. “It’s not as if anyone else is here. Who’s going to hear? The walls?”

“We’re alone?” Dean asked, eyes widening.

“...Yes.” Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that a problem?”

Well, this was just _fan_ -fucking- _tastic_. Though Dean would never admit it aloud, he’d sort of started to avoid Cas when they were alone. He hung out with him, but it was when there was someone else their, a witness, or in a public place, so he didn’t do anything he’d later regret. They were both busy with classes during most of the day and at night, Dean made sure he had a date or Cas had fallen asleep before returning and going to bed. Dean wasn’t one to deny his body what it wanted, but even though he really, really wanted Cas––like, it was a bit _pathetic_ how bad he wanted him––he couldn’t just _kiss_ Cas or fuck him or whatever, because Cas was his best friend; he wasn’t going to jeopardize their friendship over something stupid like _lurve_ , because there was no way in hell Cas felt anything for him besides a platonic friendship––dude was straight, for fuck’s sake. Dean’s unrequited love was doomed to hell, and he tried not to let that get him down.

Basically, Dean was the Snape of this situation, only not as big a dick and much hotter.

So, yeah––a big, private bookstore with dimmed lights, conveniently placed desks, and tall, sturdy bookshelves? Not a good idea. 

“What? No,” he said, then, to lighten the tension, he winked and joked, “Good thing we’re both straight, huh? Else _anything_ could happen.” He added in an eyebrow-wiggle for good measure. Humor was always the best way to cover something up.

Cas flickered his eyes to the side before maintaining eye contact, raising an eyebrow and saying in a deadpan, “Even if we _weren’t_ straight, I highly doubt anything _would_ happen.”

Dean registered the dig, but he had seen something more important. The left corner of Cas’ mouth had twitched downward. It only did that when Cas was lying about something big, like his body couldn’t help but frown at the breach of good morality. 

Now that Dean thought about it, he’d never asked… “Cas,” he said, brows furrowing, eyes studying Cas’ face, “ _are_ you straight?” Shit, he’d never even _asked_ ––just assumed. 

Cas’ eyes widened fractionally, and Dean knew he had him. “What? No,” he said, a hint of panic in his voice before he recovered, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dude, it’s totally, y’know, okay if––.”

“Dean, I am not _gay_ ,” he snapped.

Dean crossed his arms, frowning. “An’ now you’re lyin’ to me. Cas, dude, I don’t care if you, uh, like dick instead o’ pussy, man.” Cas might be gay. Huh. Well. Who knew?

“I do _not_ ––,” Cas started, fists clenched, voice lowered.

“Cas,” Dean cut off. Softer, he repeated, “Cas,” holding his stare.

They engaged in a battle of wills, and then Cas seemed to deflate, looking away, scowling at the ground. 

“Yes. Fine. I may be...gay,” he said in a clipped tone. 

“Okay,” Dean said. Something disgustingly like hope blossomed within Dean’s chest. If Cas liked dudes instead of chicks, maybe they could––.

Dean squashed the thought then and there. No. Cas’ confession did _not_ change anything. There was still no way in hell Cas was even _slightly_ into him, and there was no way in hell Dean was going to risk destroying their-–kinda awesome––friendship to find out something he already knew.

“Okay.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” Dean grinned at him, saying, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, but–– _okay_? That’s...that’s all you have to say?” Cas said, frowning.

“The hell d’you want me to do? Whip out the Bible and start chantin’ prayers?” Dean snorted, grinning at him. “It ain’t a big deal. You like guys. So what?” The smile fell off, replaced with a puzzled frown. “Thing I don’t get is, why didn’t you tell me?”

Cas cleared his throat. Shuffled his feet. Mumbled, “I...I thought you’d find me odd.” 

“What?” Dean hadn’t heard Cas properly. 

Cas took a deep breath, focusing on a point just past Dean’s right shoulder as he repeated, louder, “I thought you’d fine me odd.”

Dean stilled, jaw working. “You thought––you thought I’d have a problem with you being gay?” he asked, crossing his arms. A pang of hurt ripped through his chest. “Is that––is _that_ what you think of me? That I’d––you think––Cas, I’d _never_.” Jesus, had Cas _really_ thought of him like that? Did Cas _really_ have such a low opinion of him? Didn’t Cas trust him? Didn’t their friendship _mean_ anything?

“Dean, I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear,” Cas said, the words tumbling out in a rush, and he made a move forward.

Dean stepped back, scoffing. He bit out sarcastically, “Yeah, no, you just thought that I was a homophobic bigot an’ that I couldn’t be trusted an’ that, I dunno, I’d suddenly end our friendship over the fact that you were into dick.” Dean paused. “Gee, Cas, that makes me feel _so_ much better.”

Dean made a move to walk away, because, _shit_ , Cas was pissing him off and he didn’t want to say anything that he’d later regret. 

Cas latched onto his wrist. “No, wait, please, Dean, don’t go,” he pleaded, but Dean told himself that he _had_ to leave right now because he was––fuck, he was _emotionally compromised_ , like Spock was so fond of putting it, and he needed to go away and fucking _gather_ himself. 

“Let _go_ of me, Cas,” he said in a low voice, because, Jesus _Christ_ , what did Cas think of him? How could Cas think that Dean was _anything_ like that? Why’d he lie to Dean this whole time? _How’d_ he lied to Dean the whole time?(A part of him whispered that he was doing the same thing, but he shoved it away because _dammit_ he was busy being angry at Cas right now). He’d even told Dean that he’d had a girlfriend––.

He stopped trying to tug away and instead whirled around, shoving a finger into a surprised Cas’ chest, and he did _not_ think about how firm it felt underneath his finger. With narrowed eyes, he said, “You told me you had a girlfriend.” 

Cas blushed, mouth working before he said, “She was, um, fake.”

Dean blinked. “Fake,” he repeated in a deadpan.

Cas’ face got redder. “Um, yes, well––it’s a long story. But, listen, Dean, I don’t think of you that way––I really don’t. In fact, I think you are a man of upstanding moral fiber, with a great heart and a strong sense of loyalty––” Dean _refused_ to let himself blush at the praise “––and I just…” Cas bit his lip, and, goddammit, Dean shouldn’t find that attractive––he was _angry_ with Cas. “I didn’t want to endanger our...our friendship. You are very–– _very––_ important to me, Dean. My...best friend.” He looked at Dean, all intense blue eyes and earnest expression, cheeks still powdered a faint pink at the words. “And I’m sorry that I made it seem you were anything less. You aren’t. And I didn’t want to take even the slightest chance and do something that might push you away.” Cas looked down. “I know now that was...rather stupid.”

_Dammit_. It was _working_. Dean could feel the anger slipping away. He cleared his throat, trying not to let warmth curl up within him–– _Cas thinks I’m very important. He thinks I’m_ important––and said in a gruff tone, “Yeah, well, whatever. You’re right. It was stupid. _Really_ stupid.” A pause. “And you should’ve told me, man.”

Cas’ shoulders slumped and he gave Dean a small smile. “You are correct. I should have.”

“Damn straight.” Dean glanced down to where Cas’ hand was still wrapped around his wrist, the warmth seeping through his skin and making want to do stupid things like play with Cas’ stupidly elegant hands. “You mind lettin’ me go?”

Cas’ eyes widened and he dropped Dean’s hand like a hot potato. “My––my apologizes,” he stuttered, turning red. 

Dean cleared his throat again––it seemed “throat clearing” had become one of Dean’s favorite hobbies in the past five minutes––and shuffled his feet, glad, once more, that his own blush wasn’t prominent. “No problem.” He needed to change the subject. “But, seriously, man, that wasn’t very smart o’ you.”

“I know, Dean.”

“Like, _really_ stupid.”

Cas looked like he was about to roll his eyes. “So you’ve told me. Again and again,” he said in a deadpan.

“What, it ain’t often you screw up royally. I ain’t lettin’ this go _that_ easily,” Dean informed him, grinning.

 Cas’ lips twitched. “It seems even the best of us make mistakes.”

Dean snorted, punching him in the shoulder. “Oh, _please_ , Mr. I’ve-got-a-fake-girlfriend.” Cas’ blush came back with a vengeance, and Dean snickered. “ _Elizabet Bennet_. Knew there was something––wait. _Wait_.” Dean blinked, staring off into space, connecting the name and his friend’s amusement and the book he’d read a few days ago. “Elizabeth Bennet,” he repeated slowly, studying Cas. “As in, _Pride and Prejudice’s_ Elizabeth Bennet?”

Cas’ mouth fell open. “What–– _no_ ,” he spluttered.

Dean dissolved into bellyaching laughter, holding onto Cas’ shoulder for support, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. “Oh God. Oh my _God_ , Cas,” he wheezed out when he regained a semblance of control. There was silence for a beat, and then Dean repeated, “ _Elizabeth Bennet_ ,” and broke into laughter again. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Cas growled, glowering at Dean. “How was I to know you’d develop a sudden love for romance novels? I picked a character I thought you’d _never_ get to.”

That sobered Dean up. “Oh, shut up,” he said, and it was Cas’ turn to smirk. “Still, man––your fake girlfriend totally beats my romance-novel-thing.” Dean chose to ignore the part where he realized that he’d been jealous––yeah, he admitted it, he’d been balls-deep in _jealousy_ ––of a fictional character.

“No, it doesn’t,” Cas said.

“Yeah, it does.” Dean smirked. “How’d the breakup go, huh? Did ya get her enough chocolates? Should’ve gotten her a few Mr. Darcy figurines, you know, to help her _heal_.” He chortled. “ _Fake girlfriend_.”

Cas glared at him. “I blame you for that. You drove me to such desperation I had to use a fictional character and claim that she and I were dating.”

“ _I_ drove you to desperation?” Dean repeated, incredulous. “ _How_?”

“You were always needling me about ‘dating chicks’ and ‘getting action,’” he complained with distaste, nose wrinkling as he repeated Dean’s words, and Dean had to bite down a grin at how _adorable_ he looked, “so I had to do _something_.”

“Yeah. Like tell me you weren’t into chicks,” Dean said, deadpan.

Cas seemed to be seriously debating punching him in the face, so he smirked. _Mission accomplished_.

The smirk faded, though, as he remembered he was in a darkened bookstore, alone, with plush couches and no witnesses and his newly-come-out-as-gay best friend for whom he had really strong, really annoying _feelings_.

Jesus, the only thing he was missing was _Something_ playing in the background and a bouquet of roses, a bottle of wine. This was a recipe for disaster. He needed _out_.

“C’mon,” he said, turning to side and fast-walking away, “let’s go. I’m hungry. You hungry?”

Cas followed him, and Dean could feel his gaze heavy at the back of his head. “Starving,” he replied.

“Good. You can buy me somethin’ to eat, then, for puttin’ me through that.”

Dean could _hear_ Cas roll his eyes. “All right. If it’ll make you shut up, then, sure.”

Dean resisted the urge to turn around and stick his tongue out, instead focusing on making conversation and staving off the heavy silence, giving Olympian sprinters a run for their money (a run for their money––get it? Jesus, Dean was _hilarious_ , even when he was freaked out) as he rushed to the door.

And if, as they walked through the dark bookstore, Dean’s mind screamed at him to take advantage of the situation, to pin Cas against a bookshelf and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, to hope and believe Cas _did_ feel something for Dean, that they could work, Dean told it to shut the fuck up because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in _hell_ Dean Winchester was about to endanger their relationship by babbling some stupid-ass confession that would make him seem like a pansy and accomplish nothing. 

_Especially_ not to Castiel Novak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. Not quite sure about this chapter. Just so we're clear, I don't own _Cut and Run_ , and, yeah, it's a real series. Which I may or may not be in love with at the moment. If you haven't read it, you totally should. Also, I don't know whether or not it comes in hardcover, and whether or not it's that easy to cover-swap, but let's pretend it is, mmkay? 
> 
> But, yeah. CAS IS ACTUALLY GAY. LE GASP. LIKE HOW SHOCKING IS THAT. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! The conclusion will be next chapter, and there will be a kiss. Yay! Balthazar, Charlie, Chuck, and Jo make an appearance––there's a reason they're in the "Characters." Don't forget to comment/leave a kudos, if you think this deserves it! It'll make my day. :)


	5. Just Kiss da Girl (Guy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '
> 
> And if, as they rushed toward his baby like hell was on their heels, he couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face, or couldn’t help but lace his fingers through Cas’ as he dragged him along, or couldn’t stop thinking, _He likes me. Fuck, he actually likes me,_ he told himself it was because he was the luckiest guy on the fucking _planet_ and he was fucking _entitled,_ and because Dean Winchester decided turning into a complete sap and getting all chick-flick-ish and turning into fucking _girl_ about all this shit was worth it _._
> 
> _Especially_ for Castiel Novak. 
> 
> '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (not really) long awaited conclusion to this five-part...thing. Sorry it so long, guys, but this chapter was supposed to be half the length––I got a bit carried away with the 'editing' part. 
> 
> So, yeah, enjoy!

**April 29, 2013**

Okay, so, _maybe_ Dean was seriously regretting the whole “I shalt not endanger this friendship,” vow he’d made to himself, because goddammit if that sleazy little _whore_ didn’t get away from his Cas he was gonna _hurt_ someone. Preferably the douchebag that was currently trying to grab Cas’ ass for the fifth time in five minutes. 

Dean’s hold on his beer tightened as the asshole to grope Cas _again_. Jesus, the fuck was this guy’s _problem_?

“Is that bottle gonna turn into a murder weapon anytime soon?” Jo joked, eyebrow raised, turning her head to him.

Dean snapped his head toward her, looking past Charlie, who was sitting next to him. “What?” 

“You seem like you’re gonna kill someone,” Charlie said, bumping his shoulder, smirking, “like that guy next to Cas. You know, the dude that’s groping him like there’s no tomorrow?” 

Dean scowled. “I ain’t gonna murder anyone, thanks,” he said, glowering at them both.

“Well, your facial expressions and vice-like grip on that beer say so otherwise,” Chuck muttered. When Dean switched his glare to him, he held up his hands, palms facing outward. “Just saying, man.”

Charlie hummed, grinning. “I think someone’s _jealous_.”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, and then said around a pout he’d never admit to having, “I’m just lookin’ out for Cas is all.”

Jo snorted. “Right. An’ Chuck here doesn’t have _Single Ladies_ memorized.”

“Hey!” Chuck protested. “That was for a _story_ , okay? I’m a _writer_.”

Dean wondered why the _hell_ he’d invited them all to the bar with him and Cas. It definitely wasn’t one of his best ideas. “I repeat, _shut up_ ,” he said, ignoring Chuck. 

“Cas can handle himself, Dean,” Jo said, rolling her eyes, “so stop acting like a possessive boyfriend.”

“I am _not_ acting like a possessive boyfriend.” He just wanted to punch the arrogant son of a bitch in the face and tell him to _lay off_. What was possessive about that?

Charlie took a sip of her beer. “Actually, Dean, ya kinda are.”

Dean resisted the urge to make a face at her. He _wasn’t_ acting like a possessive boyfriend. He was just a concerned friend. And, yeah, he’d have loved to go up there and wrap an arm around Cas and maybe kiss him to get the _back off_ message clear, but that didn’t mean he was jealous. Or possessive. 

_Concerned_ was the word. 

“Yeah, well, your _face_ is,” Dean mumbled. 

Charlie snorted. “Your witty retorts never fail to amaze.”

This time, Dean _did_ make a face at her.  

Cas broke away from the Douchebag and made his way across the dim bar––Dean let himself check Cas out as he walked back, making sure no one else could see, and, _damn_ , Cas looked fine––and sat down in front of Dean, drink in hand.

Dean resisted the urge to interrogate Cas about The Douchebag, because, now that he thought about it, his friends were right––he _was_ acting a little possessive, and he had no right. 

“So. Who was the hot blond?” Apparently, Jo had no such limitations. Dean glared at her, but she kept her gaze fixed on Cas, lips twitching into a smirk.

“The hot blond?” Cas stalled, picking at his bottle.

“Yeah. You know, the one that kept trying to undress you in his mind?” Charlie said, and when Dean switched his glare over to her, she shrugged and mouthed, ‘What?’

“Are you going to, you know, go home with him or something?” Chuck asked.

Yeah, it was official––he was gonna kill these three. Guess the beer bottle in his hands _was_ gonna become a murder weapon, after all. 

Also, there was no way in _hell_ Cas was gonna go home––.

_His life, Dean. He can do whatever the fuck he wants,_ he reminded himself, taking a swig of beer.

“What? No,” Cas said, eyebrows shooting up. “Of course not.”

_Yeah, Chuck, stop askin’ stupid questions._ _Cas doesn’t just_ go home _with anyone,_ he thought, mocking Chuck in his mind. 

That was _Dean’s_ MO.

“ _Of course not_?” Jo repeated, leaning in closer. “Why? He an ex or somethin’?”

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...yes.”

Jo leaned back, eyebrows raising. Chuck was staring at Cas as if he’d never seen him before, and Charlie cocked her head at The Douchebag, observing him.

Dean’s brows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. “You _dated_ that douchebag?”

“ _Balthazar_ ,” Cas stressed, glaring at Dean, “is not a _douchebag_. In fact, he is a rather charming, if sometimes overwhelming, man. He just happens to get a bit...grabby when he’s drunk. We ended it on good terms and are still friends. _Good_ friends.”

Dean scowled at the table. _Balthazar._ What a stupid-ass name. 

“Friends. Like, what, _friends with benefits_ friends?” Charlie asked, tearing her eyes away from Balthazar. 

Cas stilled, eyes widening a fraction.

“ _Damn_.” Jo eyed Cas and then Balthazar. “Sex must be good,” she muttered. 

“Wait, wait, wait. You have _friends with benefits_? Since _when_?” Dean demanded, ignoring Jo’s comment because _no the sex was not good_. And since when did Cas–– _Cas_ , the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd––have friends with _benefits_? 

“I––only _sometimes_ ,” Cas defended, cheeks pinker. “It’s not as if we see each other often. He’s a busy man.”

“Man, _still_. I’m jealous,” Jo muttered, eyeing the Douchebag again.

Dean glared at his profile. He looked like a fucking _ponce_ , with stupid blond hair and a tight white shirt and tight black jeans and, okay, he looked kinda European, and, _fine_ , he was vaguely attractive, but _still_. He looked _stupid,_ and–– _shit_ , he was coming here, his gait predatory and rather graceful for an apparently ‘drunk’ guy. He was probably faking. Just wanted an excuse to grope Cas’ ass. Which, okay, Dean could understand, because who _didn’t_ , but acting drunk to grope a feel was just downright _wrong_. 

Dean ignored all the times he’d done the same exact thing, because _that_ was different. 

“Castiel,” he purred, and, _of course_ , he was fucking _British_ , “you didn’t tell me you were with friends.” He eyed them all, smirking, and he just _reeked_ of sleazy sleazeball. 

“ _Balthazar_ ,” Cas warned.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening in faux-innocence. “You all seemed so interested in me––I only thought it polite to introduce myself. Heaven knows _you_ never would.” He paused and gave everyone a charming smile. “I’m Balthazar Milton.”

“I’m Jo,” Jo said with a smile, holding out her hand for a handshake.

Balthazar gripped it, turned it over, leaned in, and fucking _kissed the back_. Was this guy for real?

“I’m delighted to meet you,” he murmured, staring into her eyes.  

If Dean didn’t know Jo would kill him for doing so, he’d have knife-struck the creep’s hand off Jo, because _Romeo_ herewas getting a bit out of hand.

Jo blinked, blushing, but then smirked and drawled, “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Balthazar smirked. “It will be, if you’d permit it,” he said, and Jo’s grin widened.

“ _Balthazar_ ,” Cas said, exasperated, “ _no_.”

Jo scowled at Cas. “Hey, you can’t keep him all to yourself.”

“Oh, I like her,” Balthazar said, dropping her hand, and Jo gave him another flirtatious smile. 

“Hey! I’m Charlie,” Charlie chirped, grinning widely and sticking her hand out. 

Balthazar shook her hand, still smiling. “Pleasure.”

“Sorry, you two can get back to your, uh, flirting––just thought I’d introduce myself,” Charlie said, shrugging.

Balthazar’s eyebrows shot up. “How very thoughtful.” 

“So. You know Cas?” Jo cut in.

“Yes, yes, Cassie––” _Cassie_? What the _fuck_? What a lame-ass nickname, Jesus “––and I are...close friends. We’ve known each other for quite a while,” he said, giving Cas a secret smile. 

“Huh. Really? He’s never mentioned you.” The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop them, the smile on his face tight. 

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “And you are…?”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Jo said, grinning at Balthazar. “I believe we had flirting to get back to, as Charlie so wonderfully put it?”

Balthazar grinned at her. 

Yeah, there was no way in _hell_ Dean was letting Jo go off with this cockroach. “Sorry, that was _rude_ of me.” If it came out a bit more sarcastic that he’d intended, who could blame him? “Let me introduce myself. Hi,” Dean said with false cheer, “I’m Dean. Cas’ friend.” He’d have loved to say, ‘Get the fuck away from Jo you bastard,’ but he had a feeling neither Cas nor Jo would take kindly to that.

Jo glowered at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. Before she could say anything, however, Balthazar started speaking.

“Dean?” He looked at Cas, eyebrow cocked. “ _That_ Dean?”

“Yes, Balthazar,” Cas growled, glaring at him, “ _that_ Dean.”

Balthazar gave Dean a once-over––Dean tried not to glower at him, seriously, he did––and smirked. “Well, I most certainly understand your dilemma.”

Dean threw Cas a questioning glance, but Cas didn’t look at him. Okay. So Cas’d mentioned him to Balthazar. Big deal. He’d ask Cas about it later. Right now, he needed to deal with _James Bond_. 

“Dilemma?” he asked, looking Balthazar in the eyes and raising an eyebrow. Stupid European asshole with a stupid British accent and stupid _good looks_. What the hell did Cas even see in this guy? There were so many better guys out there. 

“Oh, yes, well, _Cas_ here––cute nickname, by the way, mind if I borrow it?––anyway, Cas here just loves to–– _hey_!” he protested as Cas got up and dragged him away. “ _Cas_! Not fair! I was just talking to your attractive crus––.” Before he could finish what he was saying, Cas slapped a hand over his mouth.

“If you will excuse me,” he seethed, glaring at Balthazar, and Dean was glad _he_ wasn’t at the end of that look, “I must _talk_ to my _friend_ here.” He gave them all a tight smile and dragged him away.

Balthazar threw Dean a wink before Cas turned him around, but Dean wasn’t paying him any attention.

_Crush_. Balthazar had been about to say _crush_. But he _couldn’t_ have.

Could he…?

“Yeah, hi, my name’s Chuck,” Chuck mumbled to himself, sulking. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Dean,” Charlie said, poking his shoulder. 

“I mean, how come Cas–– _Castiel_ ––can get an attractive, gay, European, _hot_ friend-with-benefits, and I can’t even get a _girlfriend_? Like, in which universe is that fair? I’m a good person, dammit, I haven’t done anything _bad_ ,” Chuck complained to no one. 

“Hey. Dean. _Dean_ ,” Charlie repeated, looking at him with barely contained glee, poking his shoulder harder. 

Jo snapped her fingers in front of his face “Hey, Ken, Charlie’s talking to you.”

Dean snapped himself out of his thoughts, giving Jo a disgruntled glare at the rude interruption. No, he was being stupid. He must’ve misheard. Balthazar was probably saying, like, _shush_ or something. “What?” he asked.

“ _Dean_ ,” Charlie said, her grin just a little maniacal. “He was about so say crush. _Crush_ , Dean. Cas _likes_ you.” 

Dean’s cheeks flushed. “No, I don’t think––.”

“Oh _God_ ,” Jo groaned, “ _please_ tell me you’re not going to deny _that_ , Dean. Jesus, could it get any more obvious? You two are the most stubborn asses I’ve ever met!”

“Hey,” Dean snapped, “this ain’t any of your business, anyway, so butt out.”

“Uh, how ‘bout _no_ ,” Jo said in a deadpan.

“Yeah, man, sorry. She’s right. You two are really stubborn. And frustratingly oblivious. I mean, I’d love to _butt out_ , but there’s so much UST between you and Cas, it’s annoying,” Chuck said, shrugging.

“UST means ‘unresolved sexual tension,’ if you were wondering,” Charlie added, nodding.

“There’s no––there ain’t any _unresolved sexual tension_ between me an’ Cas,” Dean spluttered, staring at them all wide-eyed. Fuck, was he _that_ obvious? 

The three just _looked_ at him. 

“Shut up,” Dean growled, blushing as he took another swig. Jesus, he needed some Jack Daniels.

“I mean, now that Cas has all but _confessed_ to you, shouldn’t you two finally face your feelings? You can’t let this moment go. Just look at Ron and Hermione! They were both idiots in denial and best friends, too, and it took them seven books–– _seven years––_ to get together. Do _you_ want to wait for seven years, Dean? Hmmm? No, you don’t. You can’t let denial hold you back, man,” Charlie gushed, leaning forward so she was closer to Dean, eyes alight. “Not when Fate has gift-wrapped you an opportunity.

“I’m _straight_!” Dean blurted out. “I’m fucking _straight,_ man, not gay. I’m as straight as a fucking rod.”

Jo snorted. “As a very twisted, bent rod, maybe. You ain’t foolin’ anyone. You’re obviously bi. Or, at least, you’re always checking Cas out when you think no one’s looking.”

“And you got all jealous and possessive when Balthazar was hitting on Cas and stuff,” Chuck pointed out. “You always smile at him with that stereotypical, sappy, love-struck smile, like in the movies, you know?”

“Yeah, like, I half expect someone to shout ‘Cut!’ every time you give him that look,” Charlie agreed, nodding. 

“And you always work Cas into any and all conversations one way or another. ‘Oh, yeah, I remember when Cas…’ or ‘Yeah, man, sometimes, Cas can get…’ and so on. And you guys have, like, a _lot_ of chemistry. It’s freakin’ tangible. Now, I’m no expert on matters of _love_ or whatever, but I know how to recognize two people in love I see it. _Writer_ , remember? I need to know these things.”

Jo nodded. “Nicely put, Chuck.”

Chuck sniffed. “Thanks.”

Dean scowled, feeling his cheeks getting warmer. He did _not_ act like that. Not even a bit. “I do _not_ do _any_ of those things.”

“Uh, yeah, you do,” Jo said, eyebrows raised at him. “C’mon, man, how long are you gonna live in denial? You have feelings for Cas. _Strong_ ones.”

“I _know_ I have feelings for Cas, okay!” Dean burst out. “Doesn’t matter, though, ‘cause he’s my best friend and there’s no way in _hell_ I’m endangering our relationship!”

“Wait, you _know_ you have feelings for Cas? Since when?” Charlie asked. “And, also, _awww_. You’re like the walking best-friends-turned-to-lovers-cliché.” 

Dean passed a hand over his face, ignoring the latter of Charlie’s dialogue. “A few months,” he sighed.

“A few––Dean _Winchester_ you _moron_!” Jo yelled. “You’ve known for _months_ and you haven’t done anything about it?” 

“Jo, he’s just worried,” Charlie chided, giving Dean a smile. “Which is really sweet. Misguided and kind of dense, but sweet.”

“Dude, _seriously_? You’ve had ample opportunity to get an SO and you haven’t?” Chuck pouted. “Man, that is _not_ fair. I’ve been waiting forever.”

“He’s my best friend, okay? And he doesn’t––he doesn’t _like_ like me,” Dean mumbled, hands fiddling with the bottle, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow him. It’d be better than having to deal with _this_. Why the hell were his friends so nosy, anyway? Couldn’t they mind their own damn business? He didn’t need any more pity, dammit––he was doing great on his own. No one threw pity parties like Dean Winchester.

“Oh, Dean,” Jo sighed. “Look at me.” 

Dean glared at her. “I don’t need your goddamn pity, okay?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “The only _pity_ you’re gettin’ from me is because of the fact that you’re an even bigger idiot’n you look.” She crossed her arms. “Listen to me. Cas _likes_ you. A lot. Like, he’s _crushin’_ on you, and the only reason that he hasn’t told you is because he thinks you’re straight, which you’re _not_.”

Dean bit his lip. Yeah, he wanted to believe that, too, but the world wasn’t exactly a wish-granting factory, now, was it? Augustus and Hazel knew that fact, and Dean did, too. “He doesn’t like me, okay? You’re just...makin’ it up.” 

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake––I’m _not_!” 

“Yeah, you are.” Dean stuck out his chin. “How’d you know, anyway? Ain’t like Cas is very fond of barin’ his deepest secrets to just anyone.” 

“Charlie told me,” Jo said, glaring at him.

Dean gave her a questioning glance. “And how do _you_ know, oh all-knowing _Queen_ of _Moondoor_?” he asked sarcastically. “Did you read his mind?”

“No,” she said, sniffing, “and I’d thank you _not_ to mock my very serious title. I don’t mock you for watching that crap _Dr. Sexy_ , do I?”

“He watches––you watch _Dr. Sexy_?” Chuck asked, eyes wide. “You’re _shitting_ me.”

“ _First_ of all, _Dr. Sexy_ is _not_ crap––it’s a complex drama with emotional ups and downs, memorable characters, and a great plot,” Dean said, glaring. Then, looking at Chuck, he spit out, “And, yeah, I _do_ watch it, you got a problem with that?” 

“No, no, just surprised, is all,” Chuck quickly rectified.

“...A complex drama, Dean? _Really_?” Jo asked, deadpan.

“Hey, whatever,” he said, shrugging, though he knew he was going to get hell for this later. Fuck Charlie. “Anyway, back to my original question––how do _you_ know Cas...y’know.”

Charlie shrugged. “I got him plastered and he spilled. It’s also how I confirmed he was gay. I mean, I had my suspicions––we all did. Well, okay, Chuck and I did, because, seriously, we were shipping you _way_ before you probably realized what _feelings_ were––”

“I was _not_ shipping Cas and Dean, Charlie, _you_ were. You just talked to me about it,” Chuck interrupted.

Charlie ignored him and plowed on, “––and Jo was, like, really surprised, but yeah. It came straight out of the horse’s mouth.” She paused, looking thoughtful, and said more to herself, “It was _really_ hard to get him drunk. He’s got extremely good tolerance for a dude who apparently never goes out.”

Dean didn’t even wanna know what this ‘shipping’ shit was. “So, _he_ told you?” he asked, just to clarify, because if it were true––fuck, if it was true, Dean was never ever going to tease Charlie again _ever_. She _was_ the fucking Queen.

“Yeah, he told Charlie, and Charlie told me,” Jo cut in. “Now, get off your ass, Winchester, and go confess or I swear I will _hurt_ you.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “You’re _sure_.” 

“Fifty-one percent sure, yeah,” Chuck said. Dean glared at him, and he raised his hands, palms outward. “I’m _kidding_. I’m a hundred-and-ten percent sure. Go for it. Follow your dreams. Live in the present. Take a leap of faith and hope you fly. Confess, because _YOLO_. Don’t be afraid–– _ow!_ Jo, why’d you _kick_ me?” he whined.

“You’re _not_ helping,” she growled, and then fixed Dean with a brilliant smile. “Go get him, tiger.”

“You can do it. Just don’t use a lot of teeth when you kiss and you’ll be fine,” Charlie said, clapping his shoulder.

Dean took a deep breath. Gulped down a large swig for courage (fuck he could seriously use that Jack Daniels right about now). Got up, muttering, “I can do this,” under his breath. Straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. Took a step forward. 

And promptly turned around. “Fuck, I can’t do this,” he told them, eyes wide.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ––Dean!” Jo snapped, and Charlie sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. 

“You have regressed into a twelve-year-old about to face her very first crush,” Chuck mumbled.

Ignoring both Chuck and Jo, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just––there isn’t enough _evidence_. I mean, what if Cas is over me by now? What if everything changes? And even if we _do_ get into a relationship, who says it’ll even work out?” His own parents were a prime example––married young, crazy in love, and turned into a middle-aged couple that always argued and left each other in tears. He remembered very well the nights he spent holding Sammy in his arms as his mom and dad argued loudly, trying to calm the crying boy as he worked to push down his own feelings. Relationships didn’t work. That was life. Dean didn’t believe in that soulmate shit, and even it _were_ true, there was a one-in-seven-billion chance that you’d find ‘the one,’ and why the fuck would the universe––karma, God, whatever––try and help Dean? It never had, and it never would. 

Jo’s eyes softened. She knew about Dean’s parents. They’d been friends since childhood. “Dean. Don’t let that hold you back. Sometimes, good things can happen––even to you. Just go, okay? We’ll deal with that when we get there.”

Dean bit his lip. Jo was being ridiculously naive and idealistic. Dean couldn’t afford to be. 

Charlie looked between the two of them. “Okay, so, I’m obviously missing something, since Jo doesn’t get all soft and mushy for _anyone_ , but I’ve gotta say, you two are worth it, right? And, really, the only thing that’ll change is that you’ll be able to have hot gay sex. Which, and I think I speak for all of us, is a very good thing.”

“Oh, ew, I did _not_ need that mental image,” Chuck said, making a face. He sighed. “And I guess this is where I be all supportive.” He looked Dean in the eye, the most serious Dean had ever seen him. “Okay, so, you’re sometimes an asshole––actually, you’re mostly an asshole, and, seriously, God knows why I put up with you––but you need to go and ask Cas out because you and Cas have something special here. Something that others would kill for. You can’t let that go to waste, and, frankly speaking, even the _chance_ of having something like what you two do is worth the heartbreak that may come.” 

Dean cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the three identical, intense stares being sent his way. “Thanks. Seriously, thanks.” He nodded at Chuck. “But, uh, I don’t think––.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” Jo said with fervor, “man up. If you don’t go _there_ ––” she pointed in the vague direction Cas had taken off “––and confess, I will drag you there _myself_. Okay?” 

“And I’ll help her,” Chuck proclaimed, and, okay, since when did Chuck have balls? 

“Dean. Dude. Don’t let this slip away,” Charlie said, shaking her head.

Dean swallowed and took a deep breath. He knew Jo meant what she said, and he knew that these three wouldn’t let him live it down if he didn’t do anything about it. Nodding, he got out, “Yeah. Okay. Okay.” He turned around. “I can do this,” he said to himself. “I’m Dean fucking Winchester. I can do this.” Then, raising his chin, jaw set, he stalked off to find Cas.

His heart was pounding in his ears. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he searched for Cas, slowly convincing himself that this whole thing wasn’t worth it––Cas couldn’t ever like him like that. Why would he? Dean wasn’t anything special––just a fucked up guy who’d only gone to college because his kid brother wanted him to, with loads of trust and commitment issues. He came with a shit-ton of baggage and that screeching-violin, boo-hoo crap. Why would _anyone_ want him?

There weren’t too many people around, and before Dean could tuck tail and run, he spotted Cas in the corner a few feet away, fingers smashed into Balthazar’s chest, right up in his face. 

Dean swallowed. Cas was getting all angry and defensive. That wasn’t a good sign. He was _never_ this aggressive. He was probably chewing Balthazar out for saying something stupid like _crush,_ because he was probably disgusted and embarrassed that Dean might think he liked him. Why else would he have such a volatile reaction? 

He turned around, because, _fuck_ , he could already see Cas’ disbelief and disgust as Dean confessed to him. Cas would probably never talk to him again, or, at least, things would be too awkward between them if Dean _did_ confess.

He _liked_ being friends with Cas, even if it hurt like hell having him so close and having to cover up his feelings with a smile and a lame joke, and, dammit, he couldn’t be selfish and just _ruin_ that. 

He looked at his friends. Jo was glaring at him, and when she caught his eye, she made a violent, pointy gesture toward Cas, mouthing, “ _Go_.” Charlie gave him two thumbs up, smiling, and Chuck cocked an eyebrow.

Dean licked his lips. There was no way in hell his friends were letting this go. They’d probably tell Cas themselves, if Dean didn’t, and if Cas was going to be subjected to his embarrassing feelings, he deserved Dean telling him himself. 

He turned back around and moved close enough to hear their conversation. They hadn’t noticed him yet.

“...you _know_ what you’ve _done_ you insensitive, selfish, annoying, _bastard_? You are the single-most––.”

“Cas! _Listen._ I’m telling you your gorgeous friend is _smitten_. He was acting all jealous and possessive––.”

“No, Balthazar! Dean doesn’t–– _I_ am the only that has any semblance of a more-than-platonic attraction, and I’ve done an _amazing_ job hiding it, and you just waltz in and _ruin_ it _all_ because you’re _drunk._ Dean’s not stupid––he probably _knows_ what you were going to say. Do you know how much I will have to lie to cover it up? Do you know how much it will _hurt_ to have to tell Dean that, no, I am _not,_ in fact, crushing on him, that was just my friend being a _moron_? Do you know how much I have lied to him in the past? Do you know how much––.” Cas took a deep breath, and, through gritted teeth, got out, “I understand you’re trying to help, and I appreciate the fact, but please, don’t... _don’t_.”

“Cas, I––,” Balthazar started, backing away, brows furrowed in worry.

“Enough, Balthazar,” Cas said, voice harsh. “I have damage control to do.” Cas turned around to walk away and saw Dean. He stilled, eyes going wide, and his fists unclenched. “Dean,” he breathed.

Dean’s mouth felt like the goddamn Sahara Desert. His eyes flickered across Cas’ face, trying to gauge whether what Cas had said had been true, and he had never seen Cas like this––vulnerable and lost. Fear and doubt flickered across his face before he reigned it all in, slipping into that emotionless mask he showed the world, the one Dean had spent three years breaking through. 

“Cas,” he said, nodding, voice raspy. “I need to talk to you.” He looked at Balthazar. “Alone.”

“Ah, yes! That’d be my cue,” Balthazar said loudly. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder, muttering, “It’ll be okay,” and then swaggered off, throwing a knowing smirk at Dean. 

Dean watched him go, scowling at his back. “ _Dick_.” He turned to Cas, licking his lips, avoiding his eyes. He wiped his palms on his jeans, clearing his throat. The bar was suddenly too hot––he needed some air.

“Can we, uh, go outside?” Dean asked. The conversation played on a loop inside his head. Could it actually mean what Dean _thought_ it meant, or was it just a huge misunderstanding? 

Cas watched him, face blank. “Of course.”

Dean turned around and walked a few steps, opening up the backdoor. Cas walked past him, making no eye contact, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his pulse, before following him through into the darkened alley. It was empty, narrow, and just a bit smelly. A single lightbulb buzzed overhead, and a giant garbage can was located to Dean’s right. 

Great. He was gonna confess his undying love next to a fucking _garbage can_. How fucking romantic. 

Dean moved to stand in front of Cas, who’s back was to the damp brick wall. He scrutinized the wall for a moment––Dean was pretty sure some of that shit was _alive_ ––before telling himself to start the damn conversation. 

_It’s just like ripping off a bandaid_ , he told himself. _Or like ripping out your heart and baring it for someone to stampede all over it, but, hey, at least it’ll be quick._

He took a deep breath, hand jumping to ruffle his hair. “So, I heard what you guys were talkin’ about in there.” He looked at Cas. “Can’t say I’m sorry.” 

“I’m––I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas blurted out, eyes wide as he finally made eye contact. “You weren’t meant to know––we can forget it ever happened, if you want, and I’ll––.”

Dean held out his hand in a ‘Stop,’ gesture. 

Cas’ voice died off and he looked down, crossing one arm across his chest to hold the other.

Okay. So. Dean had Cas here, and he was slowly starting to think that maybe, _just maybe_ , Cas _might_ feel something for him. Which was awesome and all, but what the fuck was he supposed to do now? Break into a verse of _As Long as You Love Me_ , and hope Cas understood? Quote _Romeo and Juliet_? Fuck, Dean didn’t know how to _confess his feelings_ ––he didn’t _do_ confessions.

Sonofa _bitch_. This fucking _sucked_. 

He cleared his throat. He could do this––just a few words. Just, ‘I like you.’ Yeah. Easy as pie.

“So, uh, it has recently been brought to my attention that, uh, I––that you,” he started, fumbling with the words, because this was _not_ easy as fucking pie, “that, um. Wait. Let me––Let me start over.” Cas was looking at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. “I, uh––oh, _fuck this_.” Dean surged forward, putting his hands on Cas’ shoulders, and kissed him. 

Action speak louder than words, and all that.

Cas froze underneath him, and though Dean wanted to continue the kiss––he probably wasn’t getting another one, and he wanted to make it last as long as possible––he pulled back. Wiping his mouth, he said, “So. Yeah.” 

Cas was looking at him with wide eyes, and, as if in a trance, he brought up his hand and touched his lips. “You...you kissed me,” he said, wonder in his voice.

Dean winced. Okay, that wasn’t the reaction he’d been looking for. Granted, what he _had_ been looking for was impossible, but still. “Uh, yeah. See, it’s because Charlie an’ Jo and Chuck––.”

“It was a dare.” He was shutting down again, and, no, no, no, Dean didn’t want that.

“No! No, it wasn’t a dare, I swear. They just convinced me to come here because they’re convinced that you _do,_ like, _like_ like me and not just like me and I just couldn’t go back without telling you and, man, I totally understand if you _don’t_ like me, in fact, I expect it, and I know that you probably don’t, and, okay, this was a really stupid fucking idea, and I know it doesn’t matter that I _do_ , y’know, _feel that way_ ,” Dean said, and he knew he was rambling and making very little sense but he couldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted to, “because, like, don’t think I _don’t_ , because I do, and, and, and I mean you don’t have to reciprocate or anythin’ but I couldn’t go back and––.”

He was cut off by Cas. Or, more specifically, by Cas’ mouth on his. 

Dean unfroze and kissed Cas back, tilting his head to get a better angle, tangling up his hand in Cas’ hair like he’d wanted to do since _forever_ , moving his lips along Cas’. He wrapped his other arm around him and pulled him closer, because for whatever reason, _Cas_ was _kissing_ him, and he wanted more, God, he wanted to bring Cas closer and closer and memorize the taste of his mouth––Cas tasted like beer––and the feel of his lips against his and, allowing himself a chick-flick moment, Dean registered how _right_ it all felt. There weren’t any fireworks, no colors burst behind Dean’s eyelids, there was no fanfare––the kiss was desperate and hopeful and doubtful and just a bit clumsy, and Cas was clutching him like a drowning man would to a piece of wood and Dean was all but _absorbing_ Cas into himself, and it was fucking _perfect_. 

The annoying need for oxygen rose up and Dean broke the kiss, eyes wide, breath leaving his lips in harsh, quick exhales. Cas smiled at him with too-much-teeth and crinkly-eyes, resting his palm on Dean’s cheek.

“Shit. Feel free to shut me up using that method anytime,” he breathed, and okay. Wow. _That_ wasn’t supposed to come out. This was when Dean was supposed to make his grand declarations of love and fidelity and all that shit, and then swoop Cas off his feet and make sweet, sweet love, right? Jesus, they hadn’t even _started_ a relationship and Dean was fucking up.

But Cas laughed, open and free, and kissed him again, chaste and gentle. “All right. I believe you and I will both enjoy this method very much.”

Dean swallowed, feeling almost dizzy with happiness, because he had just realized that _this was happening_. Cas _liked_ him. _Like_ liked him. Cas liked him and was willing to _try_. 

Or, at least, Dean _thought_ he was willing to try. Just to be sure, he asked, “Wait. This _does_ mean that you...y’know.” _Like me_ , he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“Yes, Dean.” He paused, pulling back just a bit, and frowned at Dean. “And just to ensure that I wasn’t jumping to conclusions, you reciprocate my affections?”

Dean stopped himself from snorting aloud. _Reciprocate my affections_. Only Cas. “Fuck, yeah, I do,” he answered without having to think about it. 

“Good,” Cas said, nodding. He eyed Dean for a moment before saying, “I would very much like to kiss you now.”

Dean grinned, big and goofy. “Go for it, man.” 

Cas kissed him again, parting his lips, and there was no way in hell Dean was refusing _that_ invitation. Their tongues slid against each other, and, _fuck_ , who knew Cas was so good at kissing?

They parted and Dean studied Cas, his eyes alight, and Dean decided that no matter how sappy and ridiculous it sounded, Cas was fucking _beautiful_ , with flushed cheeks and swollen lips and ruffled sex-hair. 

Not that he was going to ever say anything that stupid aloud or anything. 

He licked his lips, smiling, and pulled Cas back in for a kiss because _why the hell not_. 

“I must ask––since when?” Cas murmured against his lips.

“You really wanna _talk_ right now, Cas?” Dean huffed, leaning back, pouting.

Cas’ eyes flickered down to his lips then back up. “Not really. But I must know.”

Dean, realizing he wasn’t getting any unless he talked, admitted, “A few months, now.” At Cas’ raised eyebrow, he couldn’t help asking, “You?”

Cas’ lips twitched into a small smile. “A couple of years.” 

Dean blinked. “Wait. The whole time…?”

“Yes.”

“... _Seriously_?” 

Cas huffed out a laugh through his nose. “Yes.”

“Well, fuck.” Dean paused, shaking his head. “We’re both idiots.” 

Cas tilted his head, smirking. “I believe that applies more to you than me.”

“ _What?_ Hell no.”

“Dean, I thought you were _straight_.” 

“Join the club, man,” Dean muttered.

“Yes, but _you_ knew I was gay,” Cas pointed out.

“Yeah, but, how the hell was _I_ supposed to know you liked me? You’re, like…a fucking riddle wrapped inside an enigma and stuffed inside a _taco_. Yeah. How the hell did you expect _me_ to figure it out?” Dean huffed. 

Cas cocked an eyebrow, lips twitching. “By putting two and two together, perhaps?”

“...Shaddup.” 

Cas smirked. “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, _don’t_.” And because Cas was looking too damn smug for his liking, Dean leaned in and kissed him again because he could totally _do_ that now.

“I think we should seriously move this to our room,” Dean said when they pulled apart, just a bit breathless.

Cas raked hooded eyes over Dean. “I quite agree,” he murmured, voice lower, and Dean’s heart rate picked up. 

He grabbed Cas’ wrist and dragged him out of the alley, never more in a rush to get back to his–– _their_ ––room.

And if, as they rushed toward his baby like hell was on their heels, he couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face, or couldn’t help but lace his fingers through Cas’ as he dragged him along, or couldn’t stop thinking, _He likes me. Fuck, he actually likes me,_ he told himself it was because he was the luckiest guy on the fucking _planet_ and he was fucking _entitled,_ and because Dean Winchester decided turning into a complete sap and getting all chick-flick-ish and turning into fucking _girl_ about all this shit was worth it _._

_Especially_ for Castiel Novak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They kissed! YAY!
> 
> Yeah, I did reference TFiOS, because Dean would totally secretly read it, and I'm not quite sure about Charlie's characterization (I still haven't finished s8, and I've only really seen her in one episode even though I fucking _love_ her), and, yeah, she barges in on Jo and Balthazar's (did ya guys like him? Was it overkill?) flirting because she kindamaybe has a little crush on Jo, but yeah. How'd you like it? Was it good? Satisfying? A let-down?
> 
> I think I'll probably continue this 'verse (that smutty sequel I talked about earlier is still in its production, but since I've never ever written smut, I probably won't post it. Unless someone's willing to beta for me. Any takers?), and I _do_ have something of a 'Thanksgiving-with-the-family-GASP-Dean-comes-out' scenario in my head (where we meet Dean's family and stuff and he comes out and Bobby's there and he's just like, "So? You want me ta bake you a cake? Tattoo a rainbow on my face or somethin'?"), and, also, all this background info on Cas and _his_ family, but we'll see. 
> 
> ANYWAY, just wanted to say thank you to all you wonderful people that commented, read, and kudos'd (is that a real word? Probably not), and I just wanna say that I love y'all. HUGS AND KISSES ALL 'ROUND. Also, if you were to comment and let me know what you liked/didn't like, I'd be grateful. I'm looking to improve my writing, and any and all feedback is very important to me.


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